The Fragile
by WitheringSage
Summary: Tristan's and Raja's relationship continues. Raja gets a surprising option from her Uncle Ardeth which could put her new relationship in jeopardy.


**WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT**** - ** The original of this story had much more sexual content, but I opted to delete most of it. I left one part in it because I felt it demonstrated the demons that still have a hold of Raja and how it does affect her relationship with Tristan. I put dashes in bold when it starts and ends, so if you want to skip over that part, just scroll down until you see the second set of dashes. :)  


** The Fragile**

_Fragile_

_She doesn't see her beauty_

_She tries to get away_

_Sometimes_

_It's just that nothing seems worth saving_

_I can't watch her slip away_

_-Nine Inch Nails _

Chronology: Tristan is 26. Raja is 16.

Raja sat up in bed, soaked with sweat, head pounding from the images that had plagued her mind for the fourth night in a row. She knew it was just in her head, but she could feel those men in her openings and the taste of them in her mouth. Unexpectedly, she vomited, down her chest on the blanket. Still in a daze, she got out of bed and stripped off her nightgown and then the blanket from her bed. It was nearing dawn and she knew she would not be able to get back to sleep – if you could call it sleep. She decided to remove all the linens from her bed, replacing them with clean ones. 

After everything was taken care of, she took a hot bath, scrubbing herself harshly in the almost scalding water. Never clean enough. She put on her skirt, it was half dark blue and the rest was black. She tucked in her tight fitted long sleeved cotton tunic, slipped on her shoes, belted her dagger to her hip and headed to the stables.

Odin and Horus greeted her warmly as they always did. Her heart always lifted at seeing them. She prepared breakfast for Odin, always with a fresh apple, and then gave Horus a piece of dry meat. Tristan was always nice enough to provide this for her. She didn't eat animals, never killing them. Yes, Tristan. Almost three months together, and three weeks since they had first made love.

She smiled at the memory while she saddled Odin, getting ready to take her morning ride. Tristan and the knights would be arriving, most likely, late in the morning, they had been gone for nine days, and her uncle had traveled near the coast to meet a ship that held his faction from Egypt. He would not be returning for a few days. 

While her and Odin – Horus having flown off to hunt for himself – galloped and trotted over the hills and through the forest, she let her mind flow with thoughts. Ever since she was old enough, she had stopped meeting the knights and her uncle at the gate when they returned from wherever they had been. This had been the first time her and Tristan had been apart for more than a day since they became lovers. She missed him, but her privates were certainly being given a chance to recuperate from the constant love making.

Unfortunately, sense her uncle and the knights were gone, the women that worked in the tavern, and who had been "lovers" of Tristan's used this opportunity to make snide remarks while she was within earshot. Vanora was head of the tavern, and often shut them up; she was delighted that Raja and Tristan had finally consummated their relationship. Raja had a vast amount of patience, and she listened to the wenches' prattling with something between amusement and curiosity. Raja had heard things that some of the women and Tristan had done. She wasn't sure how many women Tristan had taken over the years, but she knew he had lost his virginity at fifteen, so for the past eleven years, who knew how many notches he had carved in his bedpost.

There were some things that did put a weight on her shoulders. There had been a woman whom he had taken frequently; apparently she was one of the few women who tolerated anal sex. Overhearing that graphic conversation had provoked painful memories from her past. And if Tristan had chosen that woman for her willingness, which meant that he enjoyed anally penetrating women. Did he want her to do that? She supposed she could try it if it was something that brought him pleasure – but then those memories would slash through her mind causing the area between her eyes to throb torturously. She cursed herself for letting the past interfere with her relationship with Tristan. But he was always patient and tender with her. He had always been. And she knew that he liked his penis taken into a woman's mouth. She had yet to do that as well. Instead she got out her vellum, and flipped towards a passage she had written nearly a year ago.

While her uncle and she were in Greece, Domini, a friend of the family was describing how to perform fellatio on a male. Domini was an outspoken, free individual who believed sex is the most natural thing in the world. Raja had been in the same room with her and various other women while Domini regaled them with erotic tales and legends. In her room later that night, she couldn't get Domini's words about fellatio out of her mind, so she wrote what was said down word for word. She had been reading it repeatedly since Tristan had left; if she was going to do it, she wanted it to be done right.

"You're going to ruin this, Raja," she said to herself while she trotted with Odin.

Sometimes she wished she were capable of feeling sorry for herself. People who did that seemed to get a lot of rest. Basking in the sympathy of others. Either that or accruing pity. She wanted no one's pity, and no one to feel sorry for her. Her immense dislike for anyone feeling sorry for her made self-pity impossible. She had dreamed every night, getting no sleep, her appetite sparse. Sometimes it was difficult to breathe.

"You're going to ruin this, Raja," she repeated.

Then she began to feel dizzy, and she hastily dismounted Odin, falling to her knees, throwing up the half piece of apple she had eaten, retching until her stomach could take no more. She sat there for a few more minutes, Odin nuzzling her head in concern. She patted him on the head when she got to her feet and looked at the sky. She had been out longer than she'd realized. She saddled herself on Odin again and headed back to the fort. After brushing him down, she went and cleaned her teeth, swishing around a bit of tonic in her mouth to get rid of the acidic taste of bile. She read for a bit, and then she heard the sounds of arrival that meant the men were back. She sighed and reluctantly went out and hid behind a building, seeing them ride into the courtyard. Raja's heart lifted to see that they all had returned safely. Vanora and Bors embraced strongly, their lips finding each other. Women were tittering and saying hello to Lancelot and Gawain. The ones who had their eyes on Dagonet were a bit shy, but some of the more bold ones were less subtle. Others gave suggestive smiles to Arthur. Gawain and Galahad had their slew of ladies as well. She saw Tristan look around - ignoring whatever coy glances he was getting - a look of disappointment and hurt donning on his face.

--------------------------------

Tristan had been aching for Raja since the day he left. Nine days wasn't usually so long a time for him, but it was different now – if felt like an eternity. With other women sex was something he used as a release. Tristan wanted her all the time, there was no escaping it. He had never even been late for a meeting at the round table, but that had changed because his body was hearing and answering her Siren's call.

It was the morning, and he was disappointed that he would not be able to spend it in bed with her. He kissed her goodbye, relishing the feel and taste of her. But by the time he reached the stairs, he knew he wasn't going to make it. He hurried his way back to her room and thrust the door open. She was stripping the sheets from the bed - soaked with their sweat and other bodily fluids - and was surprised to see him back so quickly. Raja noticed the look of rampant desire on his face, and more than noticed the bulge in his pants. Tristan had taken her again, unceremoniously tearing her shift down the middle, making love to her hungrily. He was late for the meeting, flushed, hair more tousled than usual. Despite not appreciating tardiness from any of his knights Arthur had to hide the smile on his face as well. He had never seen Tristan so light hearted.

For the first week they had made love in her room; then they ventured to other places, marking their territory with passionate embraces and cries of ecstasy. Some sounds had to be muffled, mostly when they were in the stables. They had devoured each other at their place in the forest, against the trees – doing something that was natural amongst nature. With her, Tristan felt heights of pleasure he didn't even know were humanly possible. Orgasms multiplied, tiny ones followed by a powerful climax of volcanic proportions.

The second night, she had tentatively straddled him. He put his hands on her hips, waiting for her to find a rhythm, basking in the view of her beauty. Raja moved hesitantly, looking him in the eyes, when she saw he was enjoying himself, she increased the pace of her hips. The memory of that, Tristan saw her move her hips as if they were independent from her body. Those curvaceous hips that moved in circular motions, bumping back and forth.

"What are you smirking about, Tristan?" Lancelot's teasing voice broke through his reverie. "Reminiscing?"

They were nearing the fortress, the closer they got the closer he was to Raja. He gave Lancelot a look and perfunctorily ignored him.

"You take up all my cousin's time these days, I never see her," Lancelot said, smiling devilishly at his ribbing of the scout. The other men snickered, even Arthur, save Galahad. Despite Lancelot's teasing, it was difficult to imagine his little cousin doing...that. And if the man were anyone but Tristan, one could bet that Lancelot would be watching the bastard with hawk eyes.

Tristan shrugged. "She'd rather spend time with me," he said plainly.

Galahad scoffed and Tristan shot him a look.

"Oh, it's all right, pup," Gawain said, smacking Galahad on the back. "You'll find someone!"

It was no secret that Galahad was jealous of Tristan.

"Perhaps someone my_age_," Galahad said under his breath, but all the men heard it.

Bors laughed uproariously, deflecting Tristan's riled demeanor at the young knight's comment. "What about that one woman you took to your bed a few weeks ago?"

"What about her?" Galahad spat.

"She was getting on in her years," Lancelot said, between smiles.

"She was no more than five years older!" Galahad said indignantly.

"No use trying to get it through his head," Tristan commented.

"What?" Bors asked.

Tristan looked at Galahad pointedly. "That some women prefer men to boys."

This caused laughter from all, drowning out Galahad's profane words. They increased their pace as they approached the gate and rode into the courtyard. There was a crowd of women, as usual, to greet the knights, but there was only one woman Tristan was interested in seeing. He scanned the crowd, searching for her golden brown skin among a mass of fair skin. Tristan was disappointed and hurt that she wasn't there.

Tristan swallowed his discomfiture and let it go. Then he felt hands over his eyes. A grin was already on Tristan's face when he turned around, and his heart lifted when he saw her staring back at him. He pulled her to him and found her lips, tasting what he had been denied for nine agonizing days.

"Get a room," Galahad snapped as he peevishly walked passed.

"You two are getting as bad as Bors and Vanora," Lancelot said, passing by with two women.

"Nice to see you, too, cousin," Raja said.

He stopped for a moment, extricating himself from his women and gave Raja a hug, the only female he would readily dismissive his wenches for. "And you, Raja." He looked at Tristan. "Perhaps you would feel kind enough to let Raja come up for air so I might share some ale and quality time with her in the tavern this evening."

The scout sneered.

"You're invited, too," Lancelot told him. He walked away laughing, rejoining his wenches.

-----------------------------------

Tristan's erection was granite even before he and Raja had entered her bedchambers. The need to touch her was palpable. He wanted to surround every part of her flesh, cover her, covering her mentally and physically. They stumbled through her door, and Tristan had her instantly against it, pawing at her skirt, lifting it up frantically. He untied his breeches with deft fingers, and when his yearning member was free; he clutched her buttocks and lifted her. She responded instantly, instinctually, wrapping her legs around him. Raja was wet, already ready for him. He plunged deep inside her, what he needed, she needed, a force to be reckoned with, but a force they did not fight. They fell to the ground and he slipped her skirt off. He delved into her with swift hard strokes, burying his phallus in her hot carnal dwelling. She held him to her, fingers in his tangled matted hair. Her moans incited him, and then they came together, loudly, their orgasms colliding together, lightning belted through and through their bodies, making their climax all the more powerful – excruciatingly pleasurable.

He let her down gently, his head settling on her stomach, panting, sweating, the dirt and grime of nine unwashed days had become worse, but the smell only comforted Raja. Tristan was back – they were together.

When their breathing receded to a normal pace, he lifted himself, aiding her up. Her shaky knees buckled, but he caught her, and she rested her head against his chest. Tristan kissed her on her head, and crooked a finger under her chin to soak in her beauty.

"Gods, I missed you," he said, his voice still husky.

"I missed you, too," she replied.

The atmosphere in the room was still charged with their mutual need, but suddenly she became aware that she was standing there in her tunic and boots, sans skirt. She blushed and donned her discarded garment.

Raja finally took his full person in, his limp penis dangling idly. She giggled, and he looked where she was glancing and instantly put his member back with a mere smile.

"You are filthy." That went without saying. "I think a long, hot bath is in order."

Shortly, they both had enclosed themselves in a single bath house that was near her room. It was circular, and could have fit at least three people. So as not to sully the water too much, Raja poured a bucket of water over his head to wash most of the grime away. She unbraided his hair, lathering his brown tangled locks, gentling massaging soap and a cream that was cool to his scalp.

Tristan breathed deeply, but sniffed at a familiar smell.

"What?" He turned and noticed the jar of cream that she was using. "Woman! Is that scented creamy shit you're putting in my hair? That meadowsweet stuff?" He looked at her, abashed and comically betrayed.

She laughed, her musical ring sending a thrill through him, but he was not deterred.

"You minx! Pain in the ass! What did I say about that woman stuff in my hair!" He cursed in Sarmatian and dipped himself under the water, furiously scrubbing the cream from his hair. When he reappeared, he sniffed again. "I can still smell it."

"But it smells good on you," she said sweetly.

"Like hell," he said. "Strip."

She was taken aback at the sudden change in direction. "Pardon?"

He smiled devilishly. "Strip and get in here."

"I bathed this morning."

"Bathe again." He playfully splashed water on her.

"Bastard," she cursed in Arabic. She took her shoes off, and for the second time that day, slid her skirt down her legs, then she pulled the tunic over her head.

He watched her lasciviously, taking her in. Raja stepped gracefully into the bath, settling herself in the warmth of the water. He pulled her to him, situating her body between his legs. Her head rested against her chest, and he rested his chin on her head.

"Still mad at me?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Hmmph. I could never stay angry at you."

He cupped her breasts, sliding his hands further south. When he touched the scar on her abdomen, she grasped his hand, bringing it to her lips, kissing his knuckles. Did she not understand that he loved every part of her? He nuzzled and kissed the slope of her neck, a silent gesture of love and understanding.

---------------------------------

--------------After their bath, Raja untangled his hair, braiding it again. Tristan groaned with relaxation, and laid back on the bed. Raja got to her knees and put her hand on his groin, rubbing it through the cloth. He bucked slightly at the good feeling, her nails softly trailing down his chest and stomach, untying his breeches, pulling them down his legs, his erect penis ready and waiting. She took his shaft in her hand, enveloping gently, stroking and petting upwards. Tristan's hands were behind his head and he reveled in the erotic treatment. His noises escalated when her thumb rubbed under the head of his penis, droplets of his cum trickling out. But his eyes shot open when he felt her tongue lick the tip of his phallus.

"Raja!" He sat up. "You-"

She stopped his words with a heated kiss, nipping at his lip, silencing his protests. She made her way back down, looking him in the eyes while her tongue once again flicked quickly and repeatedly under and over his member.

Yes, he had wanted that tongue, and those lips on his shaft for a good time. A little at time, he told himself, don't scare her. But now here she was, her silver eyes intently locked on his. He bit his lip and arched his neck when she cupped his balls in her hand, carefully and entirely licking the underside of his erect organ all the way to the tip. She did this successively, Tristan fought the urge to place his hand on the back of her head.

With her lips firmly wrapped around his big swollen head and shaft she gently flicked the tip of the penis with her tongue. Around the shaft she made up and down fluttery movements with her tongue.. When she heard him grunt her name, she knew he was coming. She pinched the head of his penis, stopping the ejaculation for several moments, then she let go and he spurted intensely in her mouth, a hearty moan emanating from his throat.

Raja tried not to choke on it, she coughed and put her hands over her mouth, swallowing it. She sat back on her knees, head turned, breathing, getting familiar with his taste. She didn't notice that he had sat up. ---------------------

"Okay?" His breathing was still erratic.

She nodded and got to her feet. They got under the covers and he protectively pulled her on top of him, savoring her feather light weight on his body. He stroked her back, feeling the terse silence.

"You didn't have to do that," he said.

Raja bit her lip. "Was it...good?"

His laughter rumbled through her body. She slid off of him, and turned away.

"Hey," he said, pulling her back on top of him. "I'm sorry I laughed. But maybe you didn't hear my pleasure."

"Well, I was just checking," she mumbled.

"I love you, Raja."

After awaking, they changed into clean clothes and headed to the tavern. It was almost sundown, the tavern alive with conversation, and early drunken ramblings. Lancelot waved them over to his table, all the knights sitting around. Galahad was still sulky, upon recognizing the countenances of Raja and Tristan – solid and together – he chugged down his cup of ale, immediately refilling it.

"Well, you two look rested," Bors said. Then he turned and loudly shouted, "More ale over here!"

A woman came and placed another jug on the table. Tristan served himself and Raja, putting one arm around her waist, sliding her closer.

Lancelot and the woman gave each other coy smirks.

"It was painfully boring here without you, Lancelot," she said, stroking his cheek.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, wooing her seductively – a woman he had certainly bedded, but also a woman he most certainly didn't remember the name of.

"Later?" he suggested, his hand roaming suggestively on her hips.

"My shift is over soon." She winked at him and fluttered off.

"Is this the quality time you wanted to share with me, cousin?" Raja spoke with an arch of her eyebrow.

"You'll have to excuse me, I've been without for nine horrid days," he apologized.

She nodded.

"Well, maybe next time you can join us on duty!" Gawain said.

Tristan instantly stiffened. "Don't encourage her," he said sternly.

"Pfft!" Raja nudged Tristan with her elbow. "What do you say, Arthur?" She grinned.

Tristan flicked his eyes over to his commander.

Arthur hesitated, hiding his smile behind his cup of ale. He cleared his throat, "Well, I think Ardeth might want to have some say in it."

That wasn't too bad. If it was just a routine patrol, Ardeth might concede. But Tristan was still opposed it.

Raja shrugged, and dropped the subject.

"Besides, I think you'd be a rather dangerous distraction for our scout," Lancelot said, resurrecting the topic. "He is our lookout, can't have him having his mind on other things." Lancelot didn't really want Raja out there with them either, but he was less obvious about it.

"You doubt my skills?" Tristan bristled, even though he knew Lancelot was his silent partner in this.

"Oh it doesn't matter!" Galahad slurred. "No place for women anyway!" He gave a clumsy dismissal with his hand and before anyone could say anything, he stumbled off, bumping into other tables.

"I think I better go help him, just in case he forgets where his room is," Gawain chuckled, leaving the table.

"No place for women!" She was insulted.

-----------------------------------

After conversation and ale, Raja went to the stables and got Odin ready for the night. Horus had returned, Penelo there as well. She gave them both dry pieces of meat and said goodnight to the three of them.

In her room, Tristan stoked the fire and went to sit on the bed. He took off his boots, coat, tunics and undershirts, letting them fall to the floor. When he looked down he saw a small bottle in half-sight under the bed. He bent down and retrieved it, observing it closely. It fit in the palm of his hand, the liquid was clear. He uncorked it and inhaled. There wasn't much of a scent, but the small aroma it did have was familiar. He sniffed it again, searching his memory.

Just as Raja entered the bedroom, it dawned on Tristan and his blood ran cold. He had his back turned so she could not see his face. He heard her disrobe and slip into something else, then felt her arms enfold around his waist.

"What's wrong?" she asked, noticing his tense body.

He turned around, the bottle hidden in his hand. She wore her black nightshift.

"Tristan?"

He held out his hand, revealing the bottle, not saying anything.

"Oh," she smiled and reached for it, but he held it out of her grasp, walking towards the warmth of the fire, pacing back and forth.

"Tristan, what is_wrong_?" She went and stood next to him.

"Wrong?" he repeated incredulously. "You ask me what is wrong, when I hold out a bottle of poison I found under your bed!"

She sighed, and tried to take the bottle away again. "It must have come loose from all that bed rattling."

"It's not funny, Raja," he snapped, holding the bottle out of arm's reach.

"Fine, keep the damned bottle." She went to lie on the bed, but he pulled her back by the elbow.

They stared at each other, neither comprehending the other's behavior.

"What were you planning on doing with it?" The vein in his temple pounded, his grip tightened.

"My arm, Tristan," she said calmly.

He noticed how fierce he was holding on to her, and let her arm go. "Well?"

"I've had that latched underneath my bed since I was eleven."

"Why?"

It was her turn to be exasperated. "Because it comforts me, all right?"

"And I don't?"

"It isn't about you, Tristan. When...in my head, at night, sometimes I can't get them out. All of it. And it's just comforting to know, that if it won't stop...I can make it stop."

He took in what she said, on some level understanding it, but still not liking that she thought suicide a viable option.

"You still want me to get rid of it," she stated.

"Can you blame me?"

"I'm not accusing you, Tristan. But if you need to, throw it in the fire." She shrugged and got into bed. She closed her eyes, knowing he was still standing in front of the pyre. She heard the sound of glass breaking against the back of the fireplace. He got into bed with her, and pulled her tightly into his embrace.

------------------------------------

The next few days went on as usual, then her uncle and his faction from Egypt rode into the courtyard, a mass of men clad in black atop their Arabian horses. She greeted him with a fierce hug, and recognized some of them she had known as a child. It was a breath of fresh air to talk to many in Arabic.

"Raja?" A man of about twenty sauntered up to her.

She cocked her head to the side, trying to remember his name. "Ziya?"

Tristan saw the exchange, not liking the look in the man's eyes. He walked to Raja and possessively pulled her towards him, holding her by the waist, giving the strange man a look that could freeze hell.

"Tristan," she nudged him gently. "This is Ziya. He lived in a village not too far from mine."

"Last time I saw you, you were covered in dirt, and now you're married!" he said.

Before Raja could correct him, her uncle approached her and told her he needed to speak with her immediately. Ziya and Tristan were staring each other down.

When they reached Ardeth's office, he closed the door behind him.

"What is it?" Raja asked, noticing that her uncle was acting strangely. "Please just say it, whatever it is."

He took a breath, sighed. "I have to return to Egypt."

"Just you?"

"No, Raja. It is your decision, but you may travel there, back to your birthplace."


End file.
